


Ranger Danger

by tikistitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 20:36:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tikistitch/pseuds/tikistitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are wildlife photographers on assignment in the far reaches of Alaska, where they encounter Gabriel and Castiel Malakh, part of a close-knit family of park rangers and guides.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ranger Danger

**Author's Note:**

> We went to Katmai last week, and this is what came out of it.

**Title:** Ranger Danger  
 **Fandom:** Supernatural  
 **Author:** tikific  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Dean/Cas, Sam, Gabriel, Zachariah, Uriel  
 **Warnings:** Cursing.  
 **Word Count:** 9,700  
 **Summary:** Sam and Dean are wildlife photographers on assignment in the far reaches of Alaska, where they encounter Gabriel and Castiel Malakh, part of a close-knit family of park rangers and guides.  
 **Notes:** We went to Katmai to visit the bears last week. This is what came out of it.

 

Dean Winchester swatted at a mosquito.

And then he swatted another mosquito.

And another....

"Goddammit!"

"You should get a net hat," offered his brother, Sam, who was sporting a stylish black nylon mesh draped over his cap, giving him somewhat the appearance of a very tall beekeeper.

"Fuck your net hat," groaned Dean. "You look like Grand Poobah of the Geek Patrol."

Sam merely offered a smug grin and grabbed his large suitcase from off the gravel runway. "You got everything?" 

"Everything Podunk Airlines didn't lose," sighed Dean, shouldering his backpack. Air travel did not agree with the elder Winchester, and he had spent a great deal of this cursed day so far encased in what he liked to refer to as flying metal death tubes. With a grim set to his mouth he watched their propeller plane taxi off, raising a fair cloud of dust as it lumbered off towards the metal-walled hangar.

"I think the lodge is this way.” Sam pointed up the hill, and the brothers, heavily laden with luggage, began to trek up the path towards an assemblage of rustic cabins clustered halfway up above the narrow valley that house the landing strip.

Dean batted at the insect hoards and raved, "I just wanna check in, take a three hour shower, and then relax with a cold one and whatever's on _Casa Erotica_."

Sam smirked beneath a veil of netting. "I don't think they have TV here, Dean."

Dean huffed with exertion and high dudgeon. "Why did I let you talk me into coming here, Sammy? And will you take off that old lady net? It's embarrassing."

"You're just jealous."

Dean scanned the area, not pleased to see that the largest structure up ahead was decked out with a towering wooden cross: the thing must have been 50 feet high. "So we're spending the week held hostage by a bunch of religious wackos?"

"Shhhh!" 

"Why shhh? They're nuts."

"Dean, don't embarrass us!"

"I'm not the one sashaying around in a wedding veil."

As the brothers reached the first of the buildings, a short, uniformed man suddenly stepped into the path, right in front of Sam, who nearly collided with him. "Where you think you're going, tall dark and ... well, mainly tall?" he asked, mouthing a Tootsie Pop and staring up at the younger Winchester.

"We're gonna check into our room," grumbled Dean, peeking from behind the massive object that was his younger brother.. "The one I just paid a year's salary to rent for three fucking days." 

The cherry red candy treat was waved in Dean's face. "Have you attended the bear safety lecture yet, hotshot?"

"Uh, bear safety lecture?" asked Sam as Dean huffed a sigh.

"Nobody does _nothin'_ around these parts without first going to the bear safety lecture," taunted the little man, placing his hands on his hips in a display of officiousness.

"But it's not even bear season!" Dean protested, hitching up his thirty pounds of camera equipment. "I made sure of that when I made the reservation."

"It's always bear season here in Lake Katnali."

"Look, Ranger ... _Malakh_?" said Sam, squinting at the smaller man's badge. "We've had a long day, and my brother here is not real fond of flying."

"Sammy," cautioned Dean, who didn't like his failings pointed out.

"You're the kinds of tourists the bears like most," the ranger told them. He dramatically bit off his Tootsie Pop. "Crunchy outside, with a chewy center,"

"Can't we at least-" Dean began.

"Do we have people here for the bear safety lecture, Gabriel?" came a sepulchral voice from behind Dean. He spun around, prepared for more verbal joisting, but then stopped short. The voice belonged to a slim, dark-haired man with the most amazing bedroom eyes Dean believed he had ever witnessed. 

"These losers don't wanna go to your bear safety lecture, Castiel," Gabriel tutted.

The bedroom eyes melted into two pools of disappointment. Or so Dean perceived. He seemed to be having trouble forming a thought. "You don't believe in bear safety?" Castiel asked, taking a long step closer to Dean. Dean should have flinched back, as they were nearly nose to nose now, but instead just stood there dumbly for a moment or so, thinking about what would happen were those eyes actually to peer at him from a bedroom. Preferably tangled in sweat-soaked sheets.

"Wait," Dean said, attempting to speak with a malfunctioning tongue. He licked his lips, as Castiel watched in apparent fascination. "Of course we wanna go to your bear safety lecture. Isn't that right, Sammy?" 

The only sound that came from beneath the mosquito veil was, "Uh."

"Excellent. Then kindly follow me," said Castiel, turning and ducking into a log cabin marked _Visitor Center_ , and giving Dean a nice view of a well-formed caboose.

"Come on, Sammy," urged Dean, who definitely didn't want to miss the train. Sam shrugged and followed Dean into the Visitor Center whilst Gabriel somehow melted back into the underbrush.

The Winchesters seated themselves side by side on a wooden bench in a small auditorium. Scowling at his younger brother, Dean reached over and snatched off Sam's net hat, tossing it in his lap. Sam irritably tossed his head. His hair, remarkably, was still perfect. "I thought you told me there was no TV up here," Dean said as Castiel adjusted a monitor.

"That’s correct. We don't have television up here," Castiel explained in that amazing smoky voice. "This is a DVD."

"Sam was all complaining that he'd miss _Dr. Sexy_!" Dean explained while Sam shot him a glare of disbelief.

Castiel looked concerned. "Dr...? Do you need medical attention, Sam?"

"No. Just go ahead,” said Sam, waving a dismissive hand.

Castiel straightened up and cleared his throat. Oddly enough, this only served to make his voice deeper. "Does anyone wish to hear this video in Spanish or French?" he inquired politely as he clicked the remote control.

"Sure!" piped up Dean. 

"Dean. You don't speak Spanish,” said Sam, _sotto voce_.

"But he could run it through in all the languages, in case we miss something important!"

Sam scowled at his besotted brother, turning to Castiel. "Just English will be fine, Ranger ... _Malach_? Hey, wait, are you related to...."

"Gabriel is my brother," Castiel told them. "My family has run this establishment since 1913." He stood up proudly and flashed a very small smile, which nearly caused Dean to have an embolism. "My uncle, Zachariah, is the current head of operations."

"So that's you family's _church_ we saw out there?" Sam asked, though he was pointedly staring at Dean.

The puff of pride wilted somewhat. "Er, yes. We are an unaffiliated sect."

"Unaffiliated sex?" asked Dean brightly. Castiel's face flushed an appealing shade of crimson.

" _Sect_ ," supplied Sam.

"Er," muttered Castiel. He took a deep breath and continued. "Please pay close attention to this instructional video, and I will return at its completion to answer any questions you might have." He clicked the play button and ducked out the door.

Dean watched him go, muttering to himself, "Yeah, I got a question: what are you doing the rest of my life?”

Sam fanned himself with his ridiculous net hat and rolled his eyes.

The video music (sickening sweet guitar chords) came up, and Sam and Dean found themselves immersed for the next ten minutes in a narrative concerning a motley pack of tourists stumbling around the wilderness, clapping (though not in time to the terrible music) and bellowing, "Hey, bear!"

"It'll never make Top Forty," Dean told Sam.

"Since when do you listen to Top 40?" Sam sighed.

 _“And remember,”_ came the narrator, whose voice wasn't half as awesome as Castiel's, _“never run from a bear. If you flee, it will consider you a prey object, and engage in pursuit.”_

“Engage in pursuit?” asked Dean. “What the fuck?”

“Means you'll end up bear snacks,” said Sam.

“Why don't they just say that then?”

“Dunno,” said Sam, just as the music swelled and the lights came back up. 

To Dean's delight, the dark-haired ranger reappeared, standing beside a white board scribbled full of multi-colored list of bear do's and bear don'ts. “As the film pointed out, we discourage taking foodstuffs into the back country.”

"So, you guys gonna get eaten?"

To Dean's annoyance, the question came from the snotty ranger, Gabriel, who had appeared sitting cross-legged on a table in back of the room. He had found a new Tootsie Pop: from the smell, this one was either grape flavored. Probably with a side of sass, Dean mused.

"We'll try not to get eaten," Sam told him primly.

"You sure? You guys look pretty tasty to me. Whaddya think, Cassie?"

Castiel turned a bright shade of pink. "I need to complete my bear safety lecture, Gabriel."

"Yanno, it's funny," said Gabriel, ignoring his brother.

Dean huffed with annoyance. "What's funny? Other than your face, Candyman?"

There was more gesturing with Gabriel's confectionary. “Don't you know anatomy? The brain is situated directly over the palate. Happy palate equals happy brain!”

“But please refrain from carrying food items in to the back country,” said Castiel, desperate to keep things on topic. “This will attract the attention of bears. Their sense of smell is one hundred times more sensitive than our own.”

“So that means you don't take this guy with you into the woods?” asked Dean. “He's like a human candy bar.”

“Riddle me this, Snarky,” said Gabriel. “Two big hotshot wildlife photographers come all the way up here, but at the tail end of bear season. Strikes me as weird."

"Well, unless there’s some kind of aberrant ecology up here," Sam put in, “there's more to your wildlife than coastal brown bears. We're actually up here to document the bald eagles, ducks, loons, and grebes in case you were curious."

“Yeah,” said Dean. “Gotta catch some grebe action.”

"Long way to fly for eagles,” Gabriel countered.

"We're very patriotic," snapped Dean. "Whatsa matter, don't like your country's mascot? What are you, _Canadian_ or something?"

Gabriel, far from being gravely insulted as Dean had intended, snorted with laughter. "You're a pistol. Can't wait to see you in action tomorrow."

Dean and Sam exchanged a confused glance. "We've got flightseeing scheduled tomorrow,” Sam told him. Dean winced, imagining himself back on yet another aircraft.

Gabriel smirked and hopped off the table. "Yeah you do. And who you think is piloting the plane?" Throwing a last grin towards the brothers, he sashayed out of the room.

“Wait, we're flying Gumball Air, Sammy?” asked Dean.

"Er, I apologize," said Castiel. "My brother is...."

"Hey, I have a question," said Dean, raising his hand like an eager school kid.

Castiel's head canted to the left. He pointed to Dean. "Uh, yes?"

"It's about bear safety!" said Dean. "What should I do if, despite all your great advice, I should happen to encounter a bear?"

“Please remember,” Castiel urged, “to never run from a bear!”

“Because it will _engage in pursuit?_ ” asked Dean brightly.

“Keep it up, Dean," Sam whispered, but Dean ignored his brother, too captivated by the flicker of a smile that traced Castiel's features.

 

"Dean, we're didn't fly all the way up here to bag you a hunky ranger."

Dean sat on his bunk inside their cramped cabin, pulling various metal bits and bobs out of his camera bag. "Can't blame me for trying." He pursed his lips. "So, you think Cas is good-looking?"

Sam sigh in a "my brother is impossible" manner. He was kneeling on the hardwood floor in front of his suitcase, which was stuffed with photographic equipment. "Dean, you know these guys up here don't even drink alcohol."

"You mean there's not gonna be beer at dinner tonight?" asked Dean, fingering the night's schedule, a mimeographed sheet with a header featuring praying hands.

"I don't think this guy would be into your ... _lifestyle_."

“We're calling it a lifestyle now?”

“Mate with anything on two legs. What would you call it?”

Dean tossed the itinerary aside. "How many times I gotta tell you Sammy. It's not a lifestyle. It's more like a calling!"

"Besides which, his brother doesn't seem like the forgiving sort."

"Hey, maybe it's time for baby brother to grow up. And get away from theses cheesy religious fanatics."

"Dean, will you please remember that these cheesy religious fanatics also run the airline company that's our only way out of here? They kick us off our flight because you corrupted their ranger..."

"I'll only corrupt him a little!"

Sam tugged up the false bottom on his suitcase and pulled out a wooden stake. He fingered the point, which was quite admirably sharp. "Anyway. It's dinner time. You about ready?"

Dean was busy snapping the various bits of metal together. He snapped in the last part and peered triumphantly down the barrel of the revolver he had just assembled. "For dinner? Ready when you are."

 

Uncle Zachariah, the current head of not only the Malach family but also Angels's Flight Aviation and the Lakes Lodge at Lake Katnali, had seated his great bulk at the head of Sam and Dean's table in the Lodge's dining hall. He was that rare person actually as big as Dean's oversized baby brother, but unlike Sam, he didn't wear it well, looking instead every inch the unctuous bureaucrat.

To Sam's extreme annoyance, Dean had snagged the seat next to his latest obscure object of desire, the pitiably intense park ranger, leaving Sam wedged between Zachariah and Gabriel. As there were few guests, the other end of the table was occupied by another unsmiling Malakh, Uriel, who Dean thought must've gotten teased a lot as a kid with a lame-ass name like that.

"Will you say grace, Castiel?" inquired Zachariah just as Dean was diving for a dinner roll. Dean’s arm froze in mid-grab. Sam could've sworn he saw Gabriel roll his eyes, but Castiel obediently folded his hands and bowed his head. Dean shrugged at Sam before bowing his own head, although he side-eyed Zachariah in annoyance.

"Lord, for the bounty we are about to receive, we give thanks," Castiel intoned. 

“Amen!” chimed Dean, winking at Castiel, who colored slightly. 

"Winchester and Winchester," said Uriel, sitting back and folding his hands over his stomach.

"That's the name," said Dean, who finally got to snarf his dinner roll. "As PeeWee Herman would say, don't wear it out." Dean cast a glance at Castiel, who looked sweetly baffled, but Gabriel chuckled.

“And your relationship is...?” huffed Zachariah. 

"We're _brothers_ ," Sam explained with an amused expression.

"Ah!" said Uriel. "We didn't see any evidence of rings, so we were wondering," he confided.

Dean paused in the middle of spearing some salmon in pesto sauce. "Wait a minute, you thought we were a couple?"

"It's a natural assumption," fussed Zachariah, "given the sinful times we live in."

"We don't abide such modern fancies," said Uriah, whose rumbling voice implied the wrath of some deity.

Dean raised an eyebrow, while Sam desperately motioned for him to keep his damned trap shut.

"So, uh, you guys are all related?" said Dean, looking around the table to the myriad Malach name tags. "Must be an interesting story."

"Cas is adopted," snapped Gabriel.

"Gabriel!" scolded Cas as Dean snorted.

"I tried to get him kidnapped by gypsies," Gabe continued, "but no luck."

"You should be more respectful towards our guests, Gabriel," Uriel chided.

"Naw, he's fine," said Dean, though he was looking over at Castiel, who shyly met his eyes.

"I imagine it's interesting work, being a photographer, Dean?" Castiel asked Dean.

Dean's smile was genuine, although his answer may not have been 100% undisputed truth. "It's great! I get to travel around, see the country, meet new people. I like meeting new people," he added, as his brother rolled his eyes.

"It sounds ... exhilarating."

"Have you ever gotten to travel, Castiel?" Sam asked, partly because he was growing tired of his brother and the ranger making goo-goo eyes at each other.

Castiel dipped his eyes. "A few years ago I went away. To college."

"A terrible miscalculation, unfortunately," tutted Zachariah. "But you're better now, aren't you, Castiel?"

As Castiel seemed to wilt before his eyes, Dean shifted to peer at the elder Malach. "Wait. Miscalculation?"

"It put ideas in the boy's head," rumbled Uriel. 

Sam put down his fork. "Hey, maybe I'm speaking out of turn, but aren't ideas good things?"

"Yes," Uriel told Sam. "You are speaking out of turn."

"But you have returned to the fold, haven't you?" urged Zachariah.

"Yes. I've returned," said Castiel, but the sparkle had faded from his eyes.

"If you boys got a minute after dinner, we could talk about your flight plan for tomorrow," said Gabriel.

"Yeah, we'd like a tour of the northern part of the Kobuk Valley," Sam told him. "Near the river juncture."

Uriel eyed Sam suspiciously. "That is unusual ground to cover in a tour."

"It's sacred ground," said Castiel. Zachariah looked at him reproachfully, so he added, "Certain native people's here found it to be so."

"Blasphemy," muttered Uriel, dabbing at his chin with a cloth napkin.

"It's just a different belief system," said Sam. "Like Greek mythology, or the Norse pantheon, or-"

"Or the God of the Hebrews?" asked Zachariah. "That's where relativistic arguments like that inevitably lead."

“He be praised,” said Uriel, sipping his grape juice.

“We heard there’s been a couple disappearances in the area,” Dean told Zachariah, casually as he could.

“Yes!” Castiel answered, oblivious to the glares he was receiving from his relatives. “There was a fishing party a while back. And some back country hikers before that.” 

Zachariah’s eyes flitted for one fraction of a second down at the imperturbable Uriel. “Yes, that is why one should pay attention at my nephew’s safety lectures.”

“I don’t believe they were bear attacks, Uncle!”

“Of course they were bear attacks,” scoffed Zachariah, who looked thoroughly displeased.

Dean turned to Castiel. “Why not, Cas?”

“Bear encounters typically leave disarray. For example, damaged tents and sleeping bags. And there are remains, bits of clothing, body parts….”

“Do we gotta discuss this at dinner, Cassie,” said Gabriel. “Ew!”

“I have grave concerns about this issue, brother,” said Castiel. “Those were our visitors.”

“You have any theories, Cas?” asked Dean. “About the disappearances?”

Castiel started to answer, but Zachariah spoke right over him. “Park visitors or not, it was the will of God.”

Castiel gritted his teeth. The fury that flashed in his eyes, brief as it was, took Dean aback. But then the light faded, and he was back to Cas, toying at his salmon with a fork.

“Hey! Pie!” exclaimed Gabriel as the dessert was brought out. “Everything’s better with pie.”

Dean found, for once, he agreed with Gabriel.

 

"Ready, gentlemen?" boomed Gabriel bright and early the next morning. Sam and Dean stood shivering on the porch of their cabin, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Gabriel threw open the door of the ancient, rusty minivan he was driving and the Winchesters crawled inside.

"Hope the plane is in better shape than this rust bucket," Dean complained from the musty back seat. He was uncomfortably wedged in between cartons of frozen salmon and about seven years worth of toilet paper.

"What's the matter, Deano," asked Gabriel as he leapt into the driver's seat and lurched off down the rutted dirt track towards the runway. "Zachariah piss in your cornflakes?"

Dean choked out a laugh. 

"Gabe, no offense," said Sam, who had crammed himself into the passenger seat. "But you seem a bit ... out of place here."

Gabriel shrugged. "They tolerate me because I'm their best pilot. Oh, hey, and if you could quit pouting, Dean, we've got a surprise for you." 

"A surprise?" asked Dean, who didn't cotton to surprises that involved air travel.

"A little birdie told me you're not a terrific airline passenger, Dean," Gabriel told them, "so we've whipped up some inflight entertainment."

It was then that Dean spied Castiel walking up standing on the side of the road. "Hey, it's Cas!"

Gabriel leaned on the horn. As the van slipped by him, Castiel gracefully hopped up on the back bumper, clinging on to the back as the van sped along the bumpy road. Dean nearly swooned.

"Oh, great, instead of an inflight movie we get another bear safety lecture," huffed Sam, causing Gabriel to dissolve into giggles.

It was about a mile down a dusty track to the shores of Lake Katnali. “Wait, why are those planes in the water?” asked Dean as he wriggled out of the van.

“They’re float planes, genius,” said Gabriel. “Cassie, help me turn her around.” 

“Why would you combine a plane and a boat?” Dean raved. “It’s unnatural.” 

“Because the only landing strip where you guys wanna go is on a lake,” said Gabriel, who had started yanking on one of the many cables attached to the wings.

Dean contented himself for a while by watching Cas wade around in hip boots, helping Gabriel rotate the plane so the tail faced the beach. 

Gabriel continued to bark instructions. “Load balancing time! Since my skinny-ass brother never finishes his dinner, he’s in the middle. But you, Yeti, you’re in the backy-back.” Castiel popped the passenger side door and helped Sam inside and then, despite the bulky boots he was wearing, deftly wiggled into the seat just in front of Sam.

“Deano, you’re co-pilot.”

“Uh, what?” said Dean, who had just been contemplating a scenario in which Cas was dressed in those wader boots and not really much else. “C’mon, up and at ‘em,” urged Gabriel, as the smaller man hauled Dean down the float and up into the cramped co-pilot’s seat.

“Wait, wait, where’s my seatbelt?” said Dean, who was just a little to the lee side of completely fucking freaking out.

“You’re sitting on it, dumbbell,” Gabriel supplied as Dean fumbled around. Dean finally found the ends and strapped himself in while Gabriel kept himself busy flipping switches and pushing buttons. Dean watched an electronic readout pop up on a small screen mounted on the dash. Something slapped down on his ears, and Dean felt the headset Cas had just dropped on his head. Castiel smiled and pointed to the microphone. 

“All right,” said Gabriel through his own mike. “Hold on back there, wouldn’t want anyone to fall out.” And then he jammed whatever the equivalent of a gas pedal on a float plane, and they careened out into the middle of the lake. 

“Kali,” Gabriel shouted into the mike. “Where’s my special lady?” Despite his gathering dread, Dean turned to stare at Gabriel.

“Gabriel,” came a silky voice crackling over the airwaves. “For the thousandth time, I am not your ‘special lady.’”

“She just can’t resist my charms,” Gabe confided, poking Dean with his elbow.

“You would be one hell of a lot more charming if you ever bothered to file a flight plan, Gabriel,” snarked Kali.

“I’m heading off over the hills and far away, gorgeous. And I’m hauling Bigfoot and Grumpy.”

“Don’t forget me, Gabriel,” said Cas.

“Yes, and our lovely and charming flight attendant, Castiel. Show them our inflight service, Cassie.”

Smiling faintly, Castiel dug into a pocket and lobbed something over his shoulder back at Sam, and then turned to toss them at Dean. Dean stared into his lap.

“Tootsie rolls! Cool!” exclaimed Sam from his seat in the backy-back. 

“Can I get a drink?” whined Dean.

“Maybe later,” said Gabriel, who had just been having a jargon-filled conversation with Kali that involved a lot of back and forth about vectors. “Hey, lovely flight attendant, it’s time for Angels’s Flight Air’s safety demonstration.”

“Passengers are reminded to refrain from smoking during the flight,” Cas calmly intoned. “Seat backs contain inflatable vests in case of a water landing. And please do not fall out, as this impacts our insurance rates.”

“What has gotten into you today?” Dean demanded of Castiel.

“My brother loves to fly. Like a fish to water! Ask who’s our second best pilot. He’s almost as good as me, though nowhere near as good-looking sadly.”

Before Dean could protest, Gabriel hit the throttle, and the little plane rattled and groaned and, within seconds, rose like a dream into the air over the lake.

“Whoa!” Sam was excitedly looking back and forth, snapping photos with the small SLR he'd brought on board. 

“You not gonna take pictures?” Gabriel asked Dean.

Dean was plastered back into his seat, the color drained from his face. “I'm gonna concentrate on not dying.” He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned halfway around to see Cas.

“Down there is the waterfall. That wooden platform you see to the east is used for wildlife observation earlier in the season.”

“Bears fishing for salmon!” said Sam.

“Like on those old Disney documentaries,” said Dean, who was wondering if it would be too girly for him to reach over and grasp Castiel's comforting hand. 

Gabriel snorted. “Disney's full of crap. He should have his cryo-frozen head examined.”

“You don't believe that stuff, do you?” Sam asked.

“But it's not a myth, Sammy,” said Dean. “Bobby told me. The old man is buried underneath Disneyland. Main Street!”

“I've never been to Disneyland,” Cas put in. 

Dean twisted almost all the way around in his seat and gave Castiel a lingering glance. “Oh. We should take you some time.”

“Really?”

“You'd love it.”

“I've always wanted to go.”

“Yeah, we could- Aiiii!” Dean's stomach lurched as the plane suddenly lost altitude. 

“Oops!” said Gabriel as the plane steadied. Dean gave him a withering look, which totally bounced off. “This is where you guys wanna go, where the two rivers meet?” Dean leaned over to look out the window and saw, to his displeasure, that they were still aloft, but also that they were heading towards the river junction.

“Yeah, that's correct,” Sam told him. “Can we actually land some place nearby?”

“Can we land!” mocked Gabriel. “Flight attendants, prepare the cabin for landing.”

“Please make certain to return all tray tables, and have your seat backs in the upright and locked position,” Cas told Dean. Dean's thoughts drifted to images of Cas wearing an old fashioned stewardess uniform, but then the plane lurched and they were headed downwards.

“We're gonna die!” shouted Dean, before Cas gave him a sympathy Vulcan Neck Pinch and he crumpled down in the seat for the rest of the landing sequence which was, to be honest, rather free of incident. After a bit of time spent by Gabriel and Castiel wrangling the plane to the sandy shore, the Winchester brothers debarked. Sam continued taking photographs, while Dean, once he got his footing, pulled out some kind of meter. He raised his eyebrows, and showed Sam the reading.

“What is that thing, anyways?” asked Gabriel.

“It's a light meter,” Dean told him. “Because, you know, we're _photographers._ ”

Castiel was gazing around as well. “This is considered to be a sacred spot. By some.”

“You were going to say something about this last night,” said Sam.

Castiel looked contrite, but Gabriel said, “Go ahead, Cassie. I won't bust you.”

Castiel looked thoughtful for a long moment, as if deciding whether or not to speak. “The native people in this region long believed this was home to a, uh, type of river deity.”

“What type of deity, specifically,” asked Dean as he and Sam gathered around.

“Unk Cekula. She was a great serpent. Or so it was said. It was said she was large enough to span the river at it's widest point, tail on one bank, head on the other.” He outstretched his arms to demonstrate. “The side of the river where the tail rested would have good harvests that year. But the bank near the head of the serpent … it was not so fortunate.”

“Not fortunate?” asked Sam.

“It flooded the banks. With it's terrible wrath. Crops, villages … all was wiped out.”

Dean leaned close to Castiel. He spoke softly. “So, if Unk Cekula was pretty big, would she have been big enough to swallow some fishermen? Whole?”

Cas flicked his eyes over to Gabriel, who pretended to be really interested in some pebbles beneath his feet. “Yes. But-”

“But what?”

“It's only a legend. A story people tell.”

“So's the bible. But you seem to do all right by it.”

Castiel looked uncertain. “Unk Cekula is a pagan myth. It's blasphemous. By definition.”

Dean stood and rubbed a thumb across his lips. “Cas. You understand, if something's been awakened in your river, blasphemous or not, it's not gonna go away. Not 'til it's gobbled up a lot more fishermen.”

“And it may not stay put,” Sam added. 

Dean nodded, coming closer to Castiel. “That's true. It might not stay up here, not when there's ripe pickings downriver. Where your family lives.”

Castiel looked between the two brothers, biting his lip. 

“Hey, Cassie, you wanna take the wheel on the way back?” Everyone turned to Gabriel, who was in the creek up to his ankles, puling on one of the ropes attached to the float plane. 

Sparing a last look at the Winchesters, Castiel strode over to join Gabriel. Dean glowered at Gabriel, and then he and Sam followed the Malakh brothers back to the plane. 

 

They had waited until after sunset that night, which still arrived relatively late up here at this time of year. They stumbled up the path carrying flashlights, Dean having vetoed Sam's headlamps as being as geeky as the damn head net. 

Sam aimed the beam of his flashlight across a wooden bridge, which spanned a rapidly moving stream just above the waterfall. "You sure you'll be OK?" he asked. "We saw this from the plane: there's no platform over on the other side."

"Don't worry. We just have to be on opposite sides for this spell to work, right?"

"According to my sources, yeah. We just have to create a spectral line that spans the river. That should trap it: tail on one side, head on the other."

"Great. I'll get set up, and we'll bag the snake chick, and be out in time to grab a beer in Anchorage. What's the matter? Why am I getting bitch face number twenty-three?"

Sam looked truly sour. "Hasn't it occurred to you Dean, these things are _never_ straightforward?"

Dean shrugged it off and ambled off across the wooden bridge that was suspended over the rushing river while his brother situated himself up on the nearby viewing platform. The bridge ended in a gravel path that wound into the marshlands beyond the river. Dean turned off the trail, blatantly ignoring the sign imploring visitors to remain on the pathway, instead following a narrow dirt track which climbed up the bank to find a spot that would be more or less directly opposite of Sam. He wrinkled his nose as he nearly stepped right in a big pile of some kind of dung.

He climbed for some minutes before he finally crested the hill. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he spared a look down the bank, and immediately jerked backwards. It was a long drop into swiftly moving water, and Dean didn't much care for heights. Stepping back from the edge, he dropped his bag and, after three quick flashes of his flashlight, the prearranged signal, he pulled out a bowl and various herbs and then set to mixing the correct ingredients in the right order. He squinted at Sam's hastily scrawled ingredients list, finally situating the flashlight uncomfortably in his mouth, regretting for a moment that Sam had let him talk them out of the headlamps. 

He was roused from his work by the nearby snap of a twig. He looked up, confused. "Sam?" he asked.

It was not Sam, but rather a medium-sized version of the coastal brown bear, the creature's sensitive nose having picked up the aroma of one or more of Dean's many fragrant ingredients.

Dean bolted up, stifling a scream. And then he took a long step backwards which, unfortunately, had him stepping off the edge of the bank over the river. Flailing wildly, he fell halfway down the steep, muddy bank, only succeeding to arrest himself by grabbing onto a scrubby bush that grew up on the riverside.

He hung there a moment, breathing hard, heart fluttering in his chest, with absolutely no idea which was the better choice: the rushing river below, or a half ton of Ursus arctos slobbering at him above. He heard the thump up above as the bear evidently tipped over his bowl. “So much for that spell,” he muttered.”

His hands slipped, and he skidded another few inches down the bank. He looked down, over his shoulder, immediately regretting it. No, downwards didn't seem like a good idea. Positioning his feet into the side of the hill, he scrambled desperately to scale the bank. He nudged up a few inches, only to slide right back down the muddy hillside. 

There was the crack of a twig from up the bank, and Dean froze.

"Take my hand," came a familiar growl from above. Dean grasped at the pale, long-fingered hand that stuck out from above, clinging on with all his might. And then he felt himself yanked upwards. He crested the hill, but then overbalanced and toppled over his rescuer. He found himself on the ground, blinking down at a scowling pair of bedroom eyes.

 

“I knew these two weren't photographers,” snarled Uriel as he paced back and forth in Zachariah's office.

Zachariah leaned across his desk, interlacing his fingers. “Would you two care to explain yourselves?” he asked of Sam and Dean, who stood before him like two penitent school children before the principal.

Dean turned around to peer questioningly at Cas, who was leaning on the back wall, next to Gabriel, resolutely staring at the floor. Dean then cast a glance at his brother beside him, who was wearing his best “boy are we busted” expression. He decided the only way out was their absolute last resort: the truth.

“Look, Zachariah. I know you got a certain view of the world. And you've tried to make a little safe place for yourself and your family. I mean, on that we agree, family is important. It's the most important.”

“Why are you listening to him, Zachariah?” demanded Uriel. But Zachariah waved him to silence.

Dean strode forward to lean on Zachariah's desk. “We saw the signs, up there today. The EMF reading was off the charts. This thing … whatever you wanna call it, it's killed before, and it's gonna kill again. And the next vic might not be some tourist, it might be someone you know. One of your brothers. What if it's Cas next time? Or Uriel over there?”

Zachariah narrowed his eyes. “The Lord works in mysterious ways. Even if what you're telling me is true, which it isn't, it would be presumptuous of me to interfere.”

This latter statement rousted Sam from his silence. “Wait. What? So … you can't interfere? Ever?”

“Never,” said Zachariah.

“You're telling me,” Dean continued, “if your brother over there had appendicitis, you wouldn't take him to a doctor?”

Zachariah stared into Dean's eyes. “No. I would not.”

Dean huffed in frustration. He turned again, trying to catch Cas's eye, but Castiel only folded his arms and hunched over, as if trying to disappear.

Zachariah thumped his hand on the desk. “Gabriel, you will take these men to the airport tomorrow and personally fly them off our property. Gentlemen, I don't have a care where fate takes you, but please, from now on, and for the rest of your lives, stay out of my valley. Stay far away from Lake Katnali.” And with that, Zachariah rose and swept out of the room. Snorting in triumph, Uriel followed him.

“Meetcha tomorrow, 7 am,” said Gabriel, before he too slipped out. “Gabe!” pleaded Dean, but he did not stop. 

“I'm sorry Dean,” whispered Cas, who had come up beside him.

“Cas! You know what I'm saying is true. Help us! Before more people die.”

Castiel shook his head. “They're my family, Dean.”

“Dammit!”

But Castiel, throwing an apologetic look at Sam, slipped out of the room.

Sam stifled a yawn. “Dean, let's get to bed.”

“Why does everybody go fucking Stepford on me here?”

Sam put an arm around his brother's shoulders. “As a wise man once said, you can't save everybody.”

 

It took Dean what seemed like hours to finally fall asleep, and then his slumber was punctuated by weird, unsettling dreams. He was sitting below a tree, having a picnic, when a snake crawled up. He tried hitting it with his shoe, but it just kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger. He tried to call for Sam, but then the snake opened its mammoth jaws and swallowed him whole. Desperately, Dean tried to cry out, but he was being smothered. He grasped out a hand.

His hand closed over someone's wrist. Dean bolted awake, choking for breath, to discover something covering his mouth. His eyes snapped open to reveal a face only inches from his own.

Castiel was leaned over him, signaling Dean to be quiet. Dean nodded, and Cas withdrew his hand from Dean's mouth.

“Uh, OK,” said Dean softly, as this scenario was entirely too much like a certain mental image he had cooked up within the last 24 hours. Unfortunately for Dean's fantasy life, Cas slipped off the bed to grab something off the floor, and Dean found his boots thrust at him. 

Dean and Sam followed Castiel, who said nothing, through the camp complex and out on the dirt road beyond camp, where they found Gabriel waiting beside the rattle-trap van.

“Took you guys long enough,” he huffed, waving his ever-present Tootsie Pop (chocolate) at them. 

“Someone gonna tell us what the hell is going on?” barked Dean.

“We're gonna bag us one big motherfucker of a snake. Now hop in, I'm freezing my balls off.”

“Wait. You convinced Cas?” asked Dean, hooking a thumb at Castiel

Gabe shook his head. “No. Can convinced me. Now come on.”

Dean turned back to Cas, who was now staring at the ground again. He walked over to him. “Cas! Dammit.” Dean placed a hand on Cas's face. “I could kiss you!”

“Save molesting my brother for later. We gotta split!” urged Gabriel, who physically tugged Dean away from Castiel. The Winchesters squeezed into the van along with Gabriel and, with Cas clinging to the back again, they made their way to the beach where the float planes were parked. 

“So, you bozos had the right idea, but you were going about it all wrong,” Gabriel told them as they bumped along the road.

“How so?” asked Sam.

“Cassie read up on Unk Cekula back in college. Comparative Mythology and all that crap. Anyways, there's been stories about the great snake practically since men settled the new world. But the ones up here only trace to a couple hundred years ago. They said it would take game animals, like tree squirrels and that kinda thing, and sometimes bear cubs, stuff like that.”

“But not humans?”

“Not back then.”

Dean leaned back and whistled. “So, Snake Lady's gotten bigger.”

“If she's eating whole damn fishing parties now, I'd say, yeah, no duh.”

Sam re-folded his long legs. “So what do we do?” 

“Cas thinks you guys got the right idea, but the wrong scale. So we're gonna get you above the river junction and give it a try.”

“Yeah,” said Sam. “Shit, I should have thought of it. Dean, if we're on opposite sides of two rivers, that ought to potentiate the spell.”

“My brother, the egghead,” sighed Gabriel. “I'll never get over the shame of it. Oh, here we are.”

And indeed, there they were, beside Dean's nemesis, the float planes. “There's a full moon tonight,” Gabriel was saying, “so I think we got enough light to take off OK.”

Dean rounded on Gabriel. “You _think_?”

Ever practical, Sam set down his bag. “Dean. Let's make sure we distribute this equipment evenly.”

“Great,” said Gabriel. “Sam, you go with Castiel, and I'll take Dean in my plane.”

“What?” asked Dean, as his stomach remembered Gabriel's plane losing altitude earlier. “No way, Jose. I'm sticking with Cas, you take Sam.”

Suddenly, somehow, Gabriel was up in Dean's face. It was improbable, as the two men were separated by nearly a foot in height. “OK, but no funny business! That's my brother you're talking about.” It was dark, but Dean could tell Cas was blushing. “You wait 'til we've got a snakeskin trophy, and then do the nasty.”

“Gabriel!” said Castiel, who sounded perfectly scandalized.

“Don't even, Cas. Now come on, Sasquatch, let's get to the plane before my batshit brothers catch wise.”

 

Castiel remained silent for most of the flight upriver. He had radioed Kali, who was evidently in on this as well, but their communication was rather less boisterous than Kali and Gabriel's interplay. 

“So, Gabe says you read up on Unk Cekula back in college. Wanna spill everything you know?”

Cas shrugged, glancing briefly at Dean. The playful mood from the previous flight had vanished. “You know the most important points.”

“Seriously, Cas. Anything and everything. It might be useful.”

Cas was silent for a long moment. “Down in the lower 48, there is a Lakota legend about a river snake. She plagued a village, poisoning their water. So a sacred warrior went against her.”

“Did he slay her?” Castiel nodded. “Well. Cool, right?”

“Unk Cekula ate him,” Cas said, deadpan.

Dean squirmed in his seat. “Uh, OK, maybe that's just me, Cas, but getting eaten doesn't seem like a victory for our side.”

“He plunged his blade into her stomach and cut his way out, thus slaying her.”

Dean was silent. He started to say two or three things, but couldn't get them out.

“Well,” said Cas. “It's only a legend.”

 

Castiel hopped down from the plane and waded ashore. “Gabriel reports that Sam is almost ready.”

“We're good here, too,” said Dean, going by Sam's hastily scribbled grocery list of herbs to toss into his bowl, grateful that they had brought more than one batch of ingredients. “So what do you think your brothers would have to say, you and Gabe doing black magic?”

“I can just imagine,” said Cas, shaking his head. “They already believe my soul is stained.”

“You? I doubt it.” Dean suddenly looked troubled and patted down his jacket and pants pockets. He pulled out a book of matches, but it was sopping wet. “Shit! Hey, Cas, you got a match?”

Cas smiled. He fished in a pocket and tossed a box of waterproof matches Dean's way. “Hey. Eagle scout!” Dean said approvingly.

“Unfortunately, the scouts wouldn't have had me.”

“What? Why not.”

Cas bit his lip. “Isn't it obvious?”

Dean took out a match, but paused. “Cas. Just quit this. There is absolutely nothing wrong with what you are. All right? Your brothers are douches. You just be you.”

“But it's sinful-”

“According to your brothers! Trust me Cas. And God doesn't make mistakes, right?”

“You don't believe in God.”

It wasn't a question. Dean considered for longer than he usually thought about things. “I believe in Sammy. And I think I'm beginning to believe in you. So, that's enough for me. Now, let's bag a snake.” And so saying he struck a match and tossed it into a bowl. The ingredients in the bowl suddenly flared up. The heat was surprisingly intense.

And then the heat and light faded away, and nothing was left but the acrid smell of smoke.

Dean looked around, nervously checking the area for bears as well as giant snakes. “Well, I guess we'll have to wait and see whether this works.”

“How long do you think this will take?” asked Cas. “I haven't done anything like this before.”

“No frickin' idea.”

“Do you think-” But whatever Cas was going to say next was cut off. Later, all Dean could say was that one second it wasn't there, and then next second, it was: a tremendous snake head, hissing at them, forked tongue lolling out, venomous fangs barred.

“Watch out, Cas!” yelled Dean, but it was too late. The snake struck with lighting quickness. Castiel jumped out of the way, but he was not quite quick enough and he groaned in pain as he was grazed over the ribs by one of the sharp fangs.

“Keep away from him!” Dean bellowed. He raised his shotgun and fired, aiming for one slit-pupiled eye. There was a spray of blood, and the thing hissed and disappeared.

Castiel lay on the ground, holding his side, bleeding. Dean ran towards him. “Cas, I-”

And then all was darkness. Dean looked around wildly. He felt something spongy and wet below him. And then the ground undulated, and he felt himself sucked, feet first, into some kind of damp tube. He tried to scream, but the tube constricted around him, not letting him breathe. Panic shot through him. And then there was another push, and he was ejected once again into some kind of wet, pitch dark hollow. 

He fumbled in a pocket and brought out Cas's waterproof matches. Cas! Cas had been poisoned by the fangs. Dean needed to get back to him. He squinted around the cave.

 _Oh, fuck_ , Dean thought, as he realized the goddamned snake had just swallowed him. 

 

“What the fuck is this, Gabriel?”

“Snake tail,” said Gabe, as he grabbed Sam and pushed him behind a line of bushes just as the massive object swept over them once again. 

Sam crouched and spat blood. The thing had already knocked him over twice. “I thought the spell was supposed to trap it!”

“It did,” Gabriel told him. “Head on one bank, tail on the other. Only now it's trying to break free!”

They both hit the dirt as the tail swung overhead once again.

“What do we do?” asked Sam.

“No fucking idea,” said Gabriel, who nervously pulled out yet another Tootsie Pop. “I thought you were the black magic expert?”

“Um, Gabriel, just a thought, but aren't you not supposed to bring food when you're in the back country like this?”

“Yes,” said Gabriel, mouthing the pop. “But I hardly think bears are our worst problem right now.”

Sam sighed and crawled forward, peering through the screen of bushes. He watched the immense tail for a moment. It had ceased thrashing and had begun a kind of rhythmic thumping on the ground, thump-thump-thump. “So if we got the tail, that means Dean and your brother are dealing with the head?”

“Yeah, seems like.”

“How do you think they're doing?”

“How are we doing?” asked Gabriel, sitting back sucking on the candy.

Sam turned around to face Gabriel. His jaw dropped.

“Sam?” Sam didn't reply, but simply raised a hand to point just over Gabriel's shoulder. Gabriel slowly turned around to face a good twelve foot of bear, standing above him, claws poised.

“Uh,” said Gabriel, proffering his candy. “Tootsie Pop?”

Sam looked at the bear, and then back around to look at the snake tail. “Gabriel,” he hissed.

“Yeah?”

“Engage in pursuit.”

Gabriel was silent. “What?”

And then Sam and grabbed him and they were running headlong towards the snake tail, the bear just a second behind him. Sam wrestled them under the tail as it twitched upwards, and then the tail crashed back down, blocking the incensed bear, which reached out and began tearing into the offending object with it's massive razor-sharp claws.

The snake went stiff.

 

It was stifling and hot and hard to breathe. Dean had found a knife, but Cas's legend be damned, he was having fuck all luck trying to cut himself out of the stomach. The flesh was riddled with connective tissue, and tough as hell. He had even tried climbing back into the creature's esophagus, but the peristaltic waves kept pushing him back down.

Suddenly, the stomach lurched, and Dean was thrown off his feet, into the sticky bottom. He blinked. There was a light shining. He looked back up what he guessed was the esophagus. It was now wide open: the snake appeared to be hissing at something. 

“I'm outta here,” said Dean. He grabbed his knife and took off crawling for all he was worth, scrambling up towards the opened jaws. 

He slid out into the mouth, slipping on the slimy tongue. But just then the jaws clamped down again, and Dean was rattled against a row of fangs as the snake shook its head.

“God dammit.” Dean tried to pry the rows of teeth apart with the blade, but no luck. “Just my luck, he flosses every day,” he grumbled.

And then he looked up. 

“The brain is right over the palate.” Did this thing have a brain? No matter, Dean gripped the knife and stabbed, hard as he could, upwards.

 

“Kali! Answer me, babe!” shouted Gabriel over the headset. The little airplane pitched and rolled and finally, mercifully, became airborne.

Sam was gazing out the window in horror. “Gabe! Is that smoke coming from the engine?”

“Not a good thing,” answered Gabriel. “We'll be lucky to make it back in one piece. Kali!”

 _“Whatever happened, Gabriel?”_ came a voice crackling over the airwaves. _“The entire valley is shaking.”_

“We just bagged a snake, gorgeous. I mean, I think.”

_“You don't know, Gabriel?”_

“The tail is taken care of. We're not sure about the head.”

_“Gabriel. If I have not said so before, you are quite an idiot.”_

“I know, babe.”

“Has she heard from Dean and Castiel?” asked Sam as the plane vibrated.

“Have you heard from Cassie?”

_“I have heard nothing, Gabriel.”_

“Damn.” They flew in silence for a moment, Gabriel intensely focused on manning the controls to the shaking plane.

 _“Hey, is this thing on?”_ came a voice.

“Dean!” shouted Sam.

 

“You're OK,” said Dean, snapping Cas into the pilot's seat. Dean had burst out of the dying Unk Cekula's maw to find Cas lying on the ground, cold and white as a sheet from the snake's poison. Dean wasn't quite certain what was happening, but from the rumbling up the valley, he assumed they needed to get the hell out of the marshlands. He had half carried the semi-conscious pilot to the plane, but he wasn't sure if Cas would stay awake long enough to fly them out.

“Cas, I can't fly a plane. It's up to you.” Castiel nodded weakly, and began his routine of pushing buttons and flicking switches.

Dean grabbed a pair of headphones, and was grateful when Gabriel's voice came over the air. _“What's going on, Deano?”_

“We killed the head. But Cas got bitten.”

_“Cassie! You gotta get out of there. There's some bad mojo coming.”_

“Yes. Gabriel,” whispered Cas. “It will flood the bank.”

_“Dean! I don't care what you do, get yourselves the fuck outta there.”_

“Come on, Cas, it'll be OK,” urged Dean. 

Castiel hit a switch and the propellers started to whir. “Keep … keep talking to me, Dean.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don't know.”

“OK. All right. Get us out of here. And I'll take you to Disneyland.”

To Dean's delight, Cas huffed a small laugh. Then he frowned, and put an arm to his side, where he'd been gashed by the snake. 

The plane thrashed as the ground vibrated.

“Are you all right?” said Dean.

“You'll go with me? To Disneyland?”

“What? Fuck yeah! I'll take you on the Matterhorn. We'll ride the teacups and get sick. We'll go to the Haunted Mansion, and … I'll hold your hand if you're scared.”

“Hold on,” Castiel whispered, and pulled back the throttle. 

The plane lurched forward and, as Dean gritted it's teeth, leapt into the sky. The plane dipped a little, but held steady.

“You need to talk, Dean. Please keep talking. I don't know-” 

Dean blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Cas, what happened when you were in college.”

Beads of sweat were forming on Castiel's forehead. “I wanted … _you_ to talk.”

“I'm sorry. If you don't wanna say-”

“I found someone.”

Dean waited a beat. Castiel started to slump, so he asked, “And...?”

“My brothers found out.”

“Well, shit. I'm sorry.” Dean could hear a rumbling from the valley.

“Zachariah came and got me. To save me. From a life of sin. But you know.”

“What's that?”

Cas gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. “Zachariah can go fuck himself.”

Over the radio, Dean heard Gabriel laughing.

“Is that the lake, Cas?” asked Dean.

 _“Cassie, we have a visual on you,”_ said Gabriel. _“Keep it steady, bro._ ”

“You'll go to Disneyland?” Cas whispered, easing down on the throttle. Dean saw the wing flaps drop, and the plane lost altitude.

“I'll go with you.”

“OK.” And then the floats hit the surface and the plane skidded and skidded over the still moonlit water. Dean held his breath, watching the shore come nearer and nearer. The plane slowed, and he saw Sam and Gabe on the beach. Gabe had already waded into the water.

“Cas?” said Dean as the plane coasted to a halt. 

Castiel was slumped over the controls.

“Cas!”

 

“A little present.”

Gabriel seized the package, pulling off the ribbon and tearing into the colorful wrapping paper. “Haha! This is awesome! Thanks, Dean.”

Dean smiled at the carton of Tootsie Pops. “That's nothing. I'll keep you in candy for life.”

Gabriel winked at him. “You don't know what you're getting into. Speaking of which, wanna hop in?”

Dean did a double take at the cherry red Porsche Boxster convertible parked by the curb. “This is your car?” he asked, his voice going up a tick.

Gabriel shrugged and opened the driver's side door. “We may live simply, but the truth is, the family's loaded. And a while back I took some of my share and dumped it into tech stocks.” Dean laughed and got in. “You OK going with the top down?” Gabriel asked.

Dean pulled his jacket around him. “It's forty degrees here today, dude.”

“I know. A little stuffy. I'll run the air conditioner.”

They drove for a while in silence down the streets of Fairbanks. “Not a very big city,” said Dean, who was fiddling around looking for the seat heater.

“Not much to do besides beer drinking and curling.”

“I thought you guys didn't do alcohol?”

Gabriel laughed. “If it was up to my brothers, I wouldn't even do curling.” He glanced over at Dean. “You know, I really didn't expect you to come back,” he said, his voice suddenly serious.

“I made a promise.”

“I heard you. I was listening over the headphones, remember? I heard every word. You impress me.”

Dean nodded. They pulled up at a big house on the outskirts of town. “This yours too?”

“Tech stocks,” laughed Gabriel as he set the parking brake. “We're staying here until they repair the flood damage back at Lake Katnali.”

“Are you going back?” Dean asked as the exited the car.

Gabriel stood there in the driveway and, in what Dean took as a rare thing for him, thought it over for a moment. “I can't say. Lotta memories up there.” The walked up the front pathway, Gabriel digging in his pants for his house keys.

The front door burst open.

“Oh, hey,” said Gabriel. “There you are.”

But Dean was already pushing past him. He charged through the door, wrapped his arms around Castiel, and kissed him for what turned out to be an uncomfortably long stretch of time. 

“Ahem,” said Gabriel, when they finally broke apart. “I see you remember my brother.”

“You OK, Cas?” murmured Dean, gently rubbing Castiel's side where the monster had bit him.

“I'm great!” said Castiel, staring, dreamy-eyed, at Dean. “Evidently they couldn't figure out the correct antivenin at the hospital, but I finally just woke up.” He smiled. “They said you slept there!”

Dean scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry I wasn't around when you woke up.”

“That's all right, Dean. You're here now.” They began to kiss once again.

“Well, you know, guys,” said Gabriel, checking his watch with a flourish. “I have a bunch of errands I gotta run. Why don't a step out for a couple minutes, and let you talk? Or, uh, not talk?” Cas waved a hand at him, and Gabriel huffed and sauntered out the door, slamming it closed.

“When do we go to Disneyland?” asked Cas when at last they came up for air.

“Soon as you're good to fly.”

“Good.” 

“In the meantime....” said Dean, scanning around the living room.

“Yes?”

Dean stared at Cas. “You know those hip wader boots you like to wear...?”


End file.
